Book One – Chapter 10

As darkness herself, now in control of his advances, Midnight discerned the shadebeast more distinctly. His ripples took the form of a grand canine, a powerful and tempestuous male. He fought with brute force, akin to a wild beast, though sometimes it felt as if he were holding back —

Suddenly, Midnight realised a critical difference between them: he had never extended his darkness beyond his form. In direct confrontation, he relied solely on his teeth and claws, and his chase had been the same as a natural beast’s hunt. He had never sent darkness forth to ensnare her — He could not do it! Not like her. The revelation struck Midnight with overwhelming force. The shadebeast was limited to his bestial shape, while she controlled the darkness. He was just a beast, while Midnight had bonded with a wizard who had spent two decades mastering forces outside of his form. Yves wielded destructive discs and lethal beams of light. He must have imparted this knowledge to her long ago, and it had surfaced now. Did he not unleash light just like Midnight had bundled and sent the darkness flying? When discussing his eyes and light, had he not described exactly what she was doing now — grasping at something he could not see, something that was not there, controlling the nothing? Had the Gods sensed this potential when they acknowledged Midnight? Had the Gods granted her their darkness essence exactly because they foresaw her innate capacity? They must have known that she would become so much more than the shadebeast — the Gods chose her not to be a mere being of darkness, but a wielder of darkness.

As she realised this, Midnight became ruthless. Now, there was no need for words anymore, only intuition, only faith.